


A Collection of Spare Tires

by Amber_Aglio



Series: Amber's Fair Game Week 2020 [1]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Day 1: Flirting/Semblances, Flirting, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, fairgameweek2020, it's mostly in Qrow's head, thy're dummies but they're trying
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:14:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23172259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amber_Aglio/pseuds/Amber_Aglio
Summary: orThe Five Times People Were Third Wheels to Qrow and Clover and One (1) Time They Have Finally Had EnoughA small collection of scenes exploring Qrow and Clover's dynamic over the time.Written for Fair Game Week day 1: Flirting/Semblances
Relationships: Qrow Branwen/Clover Ebi
Series: Amber's Fair Game Week 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1665745
Comments: 59
Kudos: 122





	1. Breakfast and Laundry

**Author's Note:**

> I tried, I really tried to finish the entire story for Fair Game Week, but... it got out of hand, so for now you will have to make do with one chapter. However, you can look forward to more banter, weapon discussions, movie nights and everyone being totally done with the two idiots flirting and not doing anything about that.  
> So, this is for Fair Game Week, Day 1 - Flirting! (Though the semblances also make an appearance.)
> 
> The character list is going to expand as the story moves forward, because the first 5 chapters each feature different witnesses to our favorite gay disasters.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Qrow needs to start looking where he's going when he isn't fully awake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you to [thedarkpoet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedarkpoet/pseuds/thedarkpoet) for betaing this chapter!

Sometimes it was easy to forget that the kids were, in fact, children. The things they have seen, the dangers they have survived - it made them grow up far too fast. Some days, for example, Ruby could act mature and grown-up, reminding him a lot of Summer. 

The downsides of being heroes.

Today, though? Today they looked like they were pre-schoolers or something. And decidedly _not_ professional Huntresses and Huntsmen. Well, unless you counted the strength and precision with which they wielded their unusual weapons - food and cutlery.

Qrow dodged a pie, one palm hovering over his extra-large coffee mug protectively. He didn’t begrudge the kids for having a bit of fun, really. Bottling stress up tended not to end well, on that he was an expert. However, Qrow wasn’t nearly awake enough for such activities, and frankly, overexcited kids probably scared him far more than a dozen of Leviathans.

Yang’s battle call sounded, and Qrow decided it was about time to do the same thing everyone else in the canteen had already done minutes before.

Strategic retreat. He would grab a snack later, for now coffee was the only thing he needed.

Well, he could probably do with more sleep as well, but unfortunately, that wasn’t an option. Damn those military schedules; Qrow missed sleeping until noon. And okay, perhaps waking up was somewhat easier sober, but he also went to sleep sober, and that… was not something he was used to.

Far too early for those thoughts, Qrow reminded himself, ducking under some flying cereal and barely managing not to spill his precious coffee. First - find a safe place to wake up.

He escaped the canteen unscathed, if one didn’t count his scarred psyche and maybe dignity. Even his days teaching at Signal hadn’t prepared him for that battlefield - he only hoped the kids would have the decency to clean up after themselves. And if not - hey, you couldn’t fault him for something he wasn’t even present for, could you? Plausible deniability. Despite what some might have thought, he wasn’t their babysitter. Merely… a random adult that tagged along and caused problems. Yeah, that sounded about right.

Qrow finally escaped the dining hall. He had to go through some backdoor, because Nora had blocked the main entrance and he wasn’t about to test his luck. Still, freedom and quietude were all that mattered. The dimly lit passageway led him to the vaguely familiar part of the Academy, but he decided to consider topography later and simply find some remote corner to drink his coffee in peace.

Qrow took a sip and noted with distaste that the beverage was cooling down. Not thinking twice, his brain still longing for a pillow, Qrow yanked the nearest door open and made his way inside.

In hindsight, he should have checked where that door led first, but that brilliant thought didn’t occur to him until after he’d collided with someone and splashed coffee all over a pristine white uniform. 

Qrow slowly raised his eyes from the floor, dreading the moment he would recognize the person. Knowing his luck, it would probably be Winter. Please, let fate be merciful for once and so it would be some clueless cadet who wouldn’t give Qrow too much trouble...

He took in the powerful thighs, the somehow still cocky angle of the hips and the subtle power of the person’s waist, hidden behind blue and white fabric. He would blame the sleepiness for dragging his eyes up to the broad chest and the well-defined biceps, accentuated by the red sash, before recognizing his coffee-drenched victim as Clover Ebi. 

Oh Brothers, that might just be worse than Winter.

Qrow’s eyes snapped up in panic. Clover looked as shocked as Qrow felt, but he wasn’t looking at Qrow, but rather at…

Oh. At the once-neat stack of laundry Clover was holding. A single glimpse over Clover’s shoulder confirmed that yes, apparently Qrow decided it would be a good idea to drink his morning coffee in the laundry room.

The smash of the mug on the room’s tiles snapped them both out of their surprise, and Clover mumbled a low curse before he started quickly unbuttoning his vest.

“I’m... sorry.” Qrow distantly noticed that his own shirt also had coffee on it, but that was the least of his problems. He’d embarrassed himself in front of Jimmy’s favorite Specialist. Again. As if tripping over his own feet in the mines wasn’t enough.

Qrow didn’t want to consider why Clover’s opinion mattered so much to him. He’d never cared what the Atlas military thought of him - Winter had long since made her thorough distaste well-known and Qrow didn’t mind that. Hell, he didn’t even care what Jimmy thought of him, though the man seemed to suddenly like him for some reason.

And yet it bothered him that Clover might think him irresponsible or a liability.

“Well, luckily we’re already in the laundry room.” And suddenly Clover was shirtless, Qrow realized, and it seemed like he didn’t plan to stop there as he went to unlace his boots. His voice didn’t sound offended, quite the opposite. It was almost… playful. Clover nodded at Qrow’s own shirt, “Are you going to wash that? It’ll stain.”

 _“I’ll just do it later,”_ Qrow was about to say until he realized that he didn’t have any spare clothes to change into. Jimmy promised them all they could possibly need, but tailoring clothes took time. They each got one set ready right before the mission, the rest…

The rest would be ready soon, they were told. Fuck.

“Uhhh… It’s not that bad, is it?” Qrow shuffled backwards into the corridor, for some reason unable to tear his eyes away from Clover’s shoulders. He wasn’t even showing off, the bastard, too busy peeling off the wet clothing. 

The pants being so tight probably wasn’t helping any.

A peek down his own front revealed to Qrow that it was, in fact, that bad. Perhaps not by his standards, but certainly by atlesian ones. The stain wasn’t too obvious on the dark shirt and pants, but still visible.

So much for a fresh start. Great job, Branwen.

Clover finally defeated the pants and was standing in the middle of the laundry room in his underwear, holding a bundle of clothing to his chest. He’d look cute if he wasn’t built like a goddamn marble statue. Not that you’d hear it from Qrow - “enviably handsome” was as much as he was willing to admit.

Surprisingly enough, Clover seemed mildly embarrassed.

“Hey, don’t look at me like that,” he chuckled. “You don’t get enough free time on this job to do mundane stuff. This was my last clean uniform, I need to wash it all now or I’ll have to attend this afternoon’s meeting in sweatpants.”

Qrow’s mind was a mess. The guilt over spilling coffee on Clover spread further, but at the same time Qrow couldn’t help imagining the man in joggers and a tank top. The image was... simultaneously domestic and hot, which was extremely confusing and caused all sorts of feelings in Qrow that he didn’t want to acknowledge or let affect him. At all. They were trouble.

“You should probably go change. Winter’s going to be livid if she sees you like that.” Clover’s wink pulled Qrow out of his thoughts, and about time.

“Oh. Uh, yeah, right, I should do that.” He wondered if his old clothes had already been incinerated. Most likely, and even if not, they undoubtedly had worse stuff on them than some coffee stains.

You know what? Who was even afraid of Winter? He sure wasn’t, wouldn’t be the first time they butted heads about something stupid.

“ _Or_ you could add it to my load,” Clover was standing in front of a washing machine and looking at Qrow almost hopefully.

Qrow had no brain capacity to do anything but stare, puzzled, and Clover shrugged, “Sorry, it’s just that I’m stuck here for another hour and I can’t exactly leave. So... company would be much appreciated?”

Qrow suppressed the urge to scoff. Right, because that sounds much better than, “Do you want to also take off your clothes and hang out with me half-naked for an hour or so?”

And yet somehow Qrow found himself taking the stained clothes off and putting them in the washing machine. He kept the cape, miraculously untouched by the coffee, but sitting around in a cape and underwear felt fucking weird, so he reluctantly folded it on a nearby chair and looked at the clock.

All he needed to do was survive about an hour, right? That was a piece of cake. He could do that.

Clover, however, didn’t seem to consider spending the hour in awkward silence a marvellous idea. Qrow should have figured as much when Clover said he “would appreciate company”...

“So, I don’t mean to pry, but what were you doing in the laundry room with your coffee?” Clover looked at him with honest curiosity, and that threw Qrow off far more than their mutual nakedness. Half-nakedness. Whatever, Qrow _wasn’t_ thinking about it.

“Oh. Yeah, that... Uh, the kids...” he wondered for a moment on whether or not to tell Clover about the food fight, and eventually decided there was no way something like that will stay a secret for long. “They kind of made a gigantic mess of the canteen and I had to escape somewhere. I didn’t realize it was the laundry room until I ran into you.”

They both turned to stare at the puddle of coffee and the mug on the ground. Qrow was surprised it hadn’t broken into a hundred shards just to spite him, but maybe Clover’s good fortune was useful for something after all.

“We’ll have to clean that up...” Clover said.

“Yep.” Qrow agreed. Neither of them moved.

“I’m glad the kids are settling down okay,” Clover suddenly said. Of all the reactions to his words, this was the last thing Qrow expected. “That whole journey must have taken a lot out of them. I heard they trekked all the way to Haven Academy? And then your journey to Atlas, it must have been... rough.”

Qrow chuckled against his will. “Yeah, you have no idea. It... It _was_ rough.” He was aware that he sounded lame, but the memories of both trips were far from pleasant. He wasn’t going to pour out his soul to a random almost-stranger, even if getting stuck in a laundry room together must help people bond. Somehow. Probably. Qrow was shit with the whole “building meaningful relationships with people” thing.

Clover, however, didn’t appear put off, only mildly sheepish. “Sorry, sorry. You also deserve a break from that, I shouldn’t have brought it up. But for what it’s worth, I’m looking forward to going with you on more missions. You are a Huntsman with a unique fighting style and battlefield experience, and I enjoyed working with you at the mines.”

It didn’t make a lot of sense to Qrow, because their working together at the mines consisted of Qrow embarrassing himself and then Clover showing off. Was that the point? But Clover genuinely didn’t seem to be the kind of person who needed to put others down in order to feel good.

“What, your own team already tired of the flashy moves?” Qrow tried to joke.

Unexpectedly, Clover beamed at him and countered, “Maybe I want you and not them to appreciate my moves.”

Qrow’s brain short-circuited. Here it was again, like the wink at the mines. This was flirting, right? His mind wasn’t playing tricks on him? How could anyone say such stuff to a stranger and not mean it as flirting? Sure, this could work as friendly banter, but he and Clover had known each other for a grand total of a week and had barely interacted so far.

“Erm,” was therefore Qrow’s dignified response.

But Clover wasn’t finished, “Of course, it will have the added benefit of me getting to enjoy your moves as well. Flashy or not.”

Qrow discreetly picked his jaw up off the floor and jumped up from his plastic chair, “I’m gonna go clean that up,” he announced and stalked over to the coffee puddle. He picked up the mug and realized he should have found a rag first.

Soft noises of bare feet approached, and there Clover was, still in his briefs with a cleaning rag in hand.

“Looking for this?” he asked, and Qrow snatched the rag from the smug bastard’s hand, his ears definitely not heating up.

“Thanks,” Qrow mumbled and started mopping the floor, resolutely not looking at the sash wrapped around Clover’s arm. Or the chest. Or the - wow, that’s a sight - the defined back muscles.

Okay, looking at Clover was a terrible idea, period. Coffee. Think about coffee that you never got to drink, Branwen.

After the puddle was gone, Qrow casually tried to hide from Clover. With conflicting results.

See, the laundry room was big enough that Qrow easily found a spot where he didn’t see Clover. In turn, Clover seemed okay with not pestering Qrow any further, only sending a fleeting amused look his way as Qrow retreated.

However, Qrow’s own mind kept supplying images of Clover. And okay, he could probably handle the messed-up, shirtless Clover.

He absolutely could not handle the smiling, soft, looking-forward-to-spending-time-with-Qrow Clover.

So, yeah, he might have spent the next hour resolutely avoiding the other man. And then, just as Clover was taking the clothes from the drier, an awful thing happened.

Qrow heard voices.

And not just any voices. The high pitch of Ruby’s speech was unmistakable, and he made out Weiss’s and Yang’s voices as well. He didn’t hear Blake, but it was safe to assume she was there, too.

The sounds grew louder and closer.

Suddenly panicking, Qrow snatched his own clothes from the pile and started getting dressed in haste. Clover sent him a surprised look, “Are you okay?..”

“Yeah, sorry, gotta go...” Qrow sprinted to the door.

“Wait!” Clover’s voice made him stop and turn to glare,

“What now?!” He really, really didn’t have the time for any more stupid games. Being stuck with a charming, pleasant man for an hour was torture enough.

“You forgot your cape,” Clover stood there, still half-naked, his laundry spilled on the ground, and held the red cloth out for Qrow to take.

“Oh. Oh, right. Um, thanks.” Qrow grabbed it quickly, not bothering to fasten anything properly, and opened the door. 

He weaved his way around the four girls who were about to enter themselves, and was out of the laundry room before his nieces even finished saying, “Hey, uncle Qrow!”

They stared after him for a while in confusion.

“Huh. Well, that was weird,” Yang said.

“Mr. Ebi, you wouldn’t happen to know anything about it, would you?” Blake asked, and it was only then that the other girls noticed the man standing in the corner of the room in pants and an undershirt, barefoot and folding laundry.

“We had an unfortunate run-in with the coffee. I suppose washing everything took a bit too long, Qrow must have been in a hurry.” Clover shrugged, a picture of innocence.

Yang narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Suuuuuure, whatever you say.”

Clover eyed the bundles of clothes in their arms with a knowing smirk, “Hey, from the way it looks, you lot have also had an unequal battle with food.”

Ruby actually tried to hide the bundle behind her back, squeaking. “No, of course not! We would never...”

Weiss elbowed her in the ribs and explained apologetically, “It won’t happen again, I promise.”

Clover smiled, sitting down to put on his socks and boots, “Well, as long as no one is getting hurt and you’re not causing trouble to the kitchen staff. And it doesn’t affect your ability to fight on missions.”

All four girls shook their heads in sync with a chorus of mismatched, “Of course not!” and “We’ll do our best!”

Clover didn’t even try to hide his smile and returned to folding the rest of his laundry.

He was too busy with that, and Qrow was already too far, to see the knowing looks the four girls exchanged.


	2. Mission Report

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clover and Qrow engage in a passionate discussion on their way to General Ironwood's office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! Apparently, I didn't adjust to the self-isolation as well as I thought... but I'm finally in a good writing mood, so hopefully there will be no more month-long waits.
> 
> As usual, a huge thank you to my wonderful beta [thedarkpoet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedarkpoet/pseuds/thedarkpoet), who made sure this chapter is comprehensible!

Clover was a weapon nerd. When he was younger, he kind of had to be - a fishing rod wasn’t something easy to create or master. In his academy days a lot of people had laughed at Kingfisher, not realizing how dangerous Clover could be with it.

By the time Clover became the leader of Ace-Ops, he had long outgrown the petulant need to tie up people who were disrespectful to Kingfisher, but the nerdy desire to know all there is to know about the best weapons remained. He was a grown-up, successful man. He could afford to spend an extra moment admiring a particularly finely crafted weapon of a defeated opponent.

Especially if said weapon was Harbinger.

So once he was on actual speaking terms with Qrow Branwen, Clover could only wait so long before asking about the famous scythe. After a more exciting than usual supply run, where Qrow demonstrated once again just how talented he was with Harbinger, Clovercould no longer contain his curiosity.

He spent the entire ride back to Atlas Academy carefully formulating the question. It was always a hit-and-miss with Qrow: some seemingly innocent topics would cause him to close in, while others unexpectedly made him smile. Clover liked to think that over the couple of weeks they had known each other, he had grown better at saying the right thing to Qrow and managing to turn sour topics into hopeful ones, but there was still a degree of uncertainty.

Qrow’s nieces and the other kids were a win-win, but Clover tried not to overuse it, lest Qrow started to suspect something. Semblances seemed to be a devastatingly sore subject, and understandably so. Clover was slowly working on changing that, but in the meantime kept the discussion of Semblances to some luck puns and casual comments. Would Harbinger be something Qrow was also ashamed of, for no apparent reason?

The timing was as perfect as it could get: they’d just disembarked from the transport and were away from any prying eyes. It was now or never. Clover took a deep breath, trying to appear nonchalant.

“So, that’s an impressive weapon you got here. Not many Huntsmen use scythes, but you have certainly mastered it to perfection,” he said and mentally high-fived himself when Qrow’s eyes actually lit up. 

Bingo.

“Look at yourself, Mr. Fisherman! But yeah, it was actually inspired by the Grimm Reaper. Have you heard of her? The double scythe user?” Qrow hadn’t responded to the compliment, but Clover decided not to push it this time, faced by such unexpected enthusiasm. He nodded, remembering vaguely the legends of the Huntress, and Qrow’s face lit up with a smile that made Clover’s heart stutter.

“The stories about her were all over Remnant when I was growing up,” Qrow continued and, much to Clover’s surprise, started actively gesturing as he was speaking, looking like quite the fanboy. . “And… I don’t know, she just sounded so cool, and I was pretty heartbroken when she stopped appearing on the news and we assumed she was dead. So yeah, I modeled Harbinger off her weapon, and I have to admit it took me some time to get it right.” 

Normally, they would have parted ways soon after landing, but this time Qrow didn’t seem in a hurry to leave. Clover subtly steered them in the direction of General Ironwood’s office where the debriefing would take place. Any moments of unguarded Qrow talking about something he loved were to be cherished and prolonged, so he allowed himself the luxury of focusing on the story and not the upcoming report.

“And I mean, she ended up being one hell of an old lady, but I didn’t know that at the time. It turned out that fighting with a scythe is not something you can learn easily, you know? And there was no one to teach me, so I had to figure it out myself, and let me tell you, it was one hell of an experience. That’s actually how the other forms of Harbinger started - I would train with a sword, you know, like a normal person, and later go off on my own to practice scythe techniques. I really, really wanted a scythe.” Qrow patted the handle of his weapon lovingly and Clover found himself wishing Qrow would show the same affection towards a person, someone who wasn’t family or a child or both. 

Okay, maybe Clover was imagining how those talented fingers and masterful hands would feel touching him. Fantasising about a shoulder pat wasn’t a crime, last time he’d checked.

Clover shook himself out of the daydream to focus on what Clover was saying, “So, like I said, at first I mostly used the sword and sometimes the gun when I needed range, and I still do that. I suppose old habits die hard… But a scythe can be deadly, and scares the shit out of some opponents. It’s tricky, but totally worth it. At some point my sister found me training and didn’t laugh, but actually helped me… Sparring with her let me improve a great deal, and then I went to Beacon and everyone there seemed to agree that a scythe is an amazing weapon.”

A shadow came over Qrow’s face at the memory of his sister and their Academy days, so Clover decided to divert the topic a little. “Well, you sure have made a name with it. I’ve heard legends way before we got to meet. And now that I’ve seen it in action, I’m all the more impressed.”

Qrow chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. He looked rather endearing, if one were to ask Clover.

“Yeah, well, you’re one to talk - if someone told me before that a fishing rod can be used as a weapon, I would have laughed them in the face. How did you even come up with that idea? I doubt it was to mimic some fisherman hero.” And there Qrow was again, deflecting. Clover sighed, but decided to humour him once more.

“I suppose in a way, it was? I mean, I wasn’t raised up here in Atlas, and seeing all the hard work that went into hunting, fishing… I guess I did view them as heroes to a certain extent, particularly my father.” Clover barely had the time to register the surprise on Qrow’s face before the Huntsman schooled his features into polite curiosity again. “When I enrolled in the Atlas Academy, I really wanted something to remind me of where I came from. Though same as you, it took me a while to figure out how to use it right.”

Clover made sure his internal cheer wouldn’t show on his face as Qrow nodded, looking impressed. “You didn’t look for an easy way out, did you? I can respect that. Not just with Kingfisher, but with the way you move, the way you assess the situation in the field. A lot of hard work must have gone in it.”

Clover was pretty sure he had only mentioned the name of his weapon once in passing. Maybe they were both weapon freaks, but still, the fact that Qrow had paid attention to his weapon made Clover giddy. As they approached the familiar doors, Clover was ready to melt into a gooey mess. How could that man think he was anything but wonderful? For all his grumpiness, he was surprisingly sweet where it counted.

“You’re one of the few to think that, actually.” Clover admitted. “I did put a lot of training and thought into it, but there will always be plenty of people to say I just got lucky.”

Qrow had the audacity to  _ scoff _ at that. “Oh sucks to be you,” he said sarcastically.

Clover was too slow to realize that mentioning luck was probably insensitive - damn it, that was point one in his Qrow mental checklist. Semblances - bad conversational topic. Of course, Qrow had it much harder than him. Stupid, stupid…

“..Come on, only an idiot would say that. This is no luck, it’s hard work. Trust me, I know the difference, and anyone with half a brain should, too.” Qrow continued, unaware of Clover’s mental turmoil.

Clover almost stumbled over his own feet as he desperately tried not to swoon, watching Qrow go on without as much as blinking an eye. 

Qrow had just told Clover any ill wishers and gossipers from his Academy and early military days were all idiots and didn’t deserve a mention.

Okay, he also kind of insulted Clover, but that wasn’t the point.

Clover pushed the door open, still in a daze.

“Um… yeah, thanks for saying that, uh…” Words, come on, he could do words. Sentences, even. Not that hard.

“You know that the same thing goes for you, right?” Yes, complimenting Qrow was easy, so that was what Clover settled on. “You worked hard to make a name for yourself, and you did that alone most of the time. It’s… amazing, really.”

Clover only got a few moments to relish the soft pink tint on Qrow’s cheeks before someone pointedly cleared their throat in front of him, making both men tear their gazes from one another.

...wait, when had they entered Ironwood’s office?

The General himself was sitting at his desk, Winter Schnee and Penny standing in front of it. Penny looked customarily excited. Winter was glaring.

Ironwood seemed caught somewhere between amusement and uncomfortable exasperation.

...how much had they seen of Clover making a fool of himself?

“Are we perhaps being a nuisance? Would you like us to leave you two to it?” Winter sent a pointed glare Clover’s way and he swallowed, reading the “can you be professional for five minutes?” without Winter needing to enunciate it.

“Winter,” Ironwood reproached her and looked up at the pair, “I’m assuming you’re here to report?”

Clover glanced at Qrow, who looked like a deer in the headlights. Okay, the awkwardness wasn’t earning him any brownie points…

“Apologies, sir, we were just talking about weapons and got sidetracked.”

Clover’s mind frantically tried to recall what had happened during the mission. Qrow spinning, effortlessly cleaving through a pack of Sabyrs with Harbinger… Qrow grinning, kicking and slashing at Grimm without even breaking a sweat.

Qrow’s cape blooming like a flower among the colorless tundra.

Qrow’s throaty voice playfully announcing his head count, showing off in that endearing way of his.

...Qrow’s elbow knocking him out of his musings. Oh.

Clover coughed, straightening and doing his best to ignore Winter. Ironwood, luckily, hadn’t seemed to notice him drifting off. He was checking something on his scroll, but when he looked back up, he looked interested.

“Oh, weapons? I imagine you would have lots to talk about. Personally, I don’t understand the need for such complexity, but both your weapons are… unique, you could say.” Ironwood set his elbows on the table and supported his chin with both palms. He looked grateful for a distraction, and Clover was willing to indulge him. All the better if it disguised the mess in his own thoughts. 

He felt Qrow shift beside him, and turned his head to see the man fully recovered, a lazy smirk in place, hands in his pockets.

“Sure, James, not like you could appreciate it.  _ Guns _ . Can you be any more basic? Personally, I think you just like ripping your shirt off once you’ve fired all the rounds so you can show off all the metal parts.”

To Clover’s eternal surprise, the General looked sheepish. Before Winter even opened her mouth to start the speech about respect and proper chain of command, he coughed into his fist, “That was  _ once _ ! And a complete accident.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.” Qrow stretched, drawing Clover’s gaze to the smooth lines of his back, partially hidden behind the cape but all the more enticing for it. “Now, do you actually need a report from a measly supply run? Delivered the goods, killed some Grimm, it’s the same every time. Why don’t we save everyone’s time and just leave you to whatever hundred other things you need to be doing?”

“You have been working the hours that are generally considered unhealthy, sir,” Penny chipped in.

Winter looked like she had a lot to say about it all, but she composed herself and turned to Ironwood for direction. The General rubbed at his forehead and sighed, “Right. You’re right, Qrow, I’m sure it is fine, but you know how important it is…”

“Stop it,” Qrow said firmly. There was a soft edge to his expression, the same one he held when encouraging the kids during missions or training. “I know you want to have everything under control, but you’ll just burn yourself out if you keep it up. You gotta start trusting us, we’re not some fresh recruits who can’t weed out the unimportant stuff. So I’m telling you: there’s nothing to report. Ditch those debriefings and get some rest. Actually, ditch all the paperwork tonight and just sleep before those bags under your eyes get big enough to store ammo.” 

Ironwood mechanically rubbed at his eyes, further highlighting the dark circles beneath them. Clover could have sworn he’d heard Winter huff agreeably and it was probably a testament of how exhausted Ironwood looked if Qrow and Winter could agree on it.

Though Qrow was probably the only one who could do something about it. For all that Ironwood warned the Ace-Ops about Qrow’s impulsiveness and occasional lack of self-control, it was obvious that the two had some sort of reluctant mutual respect. Clover wasn’t sure if it was because they both were in Ozpin’s inner circle or there was some sort of personal history, but he was happy to see his General nod and put away his scroll. He still looked wary, but at least Qrow seemed to be able to talk a bit of sense into his partially-metal head.

“That bad, huh? Well… You’re probably right. Thank you, Qrow.”

“Great! Meaning we can go without being subjected to all this bullshit, come on.” Qrow turned to Clover and the cocky tilt of his head dragged attention to the hint of bare collarbone. Well, Clover’s attention at least. It didn’t look like anyone else even noticed.

“You with us, Lucky Charm?” Qrow’s raised eyebrow told Clover he really needed to stop spacing out. Easier said than done, but at least Qrow didn’t seem frustrated with it. “You definitely don’t look it, but maybe you should get some sleep, too.”

“Yeah, uh… yeah, I’ll do that.” Clover resisted the urge to blurt out something inappropriate regarding him, Qrow, and comfortable sleep. Instead, he saluted to Ironwood and turned on his heel, following after Qrow. 

How come that Qrow off-handedly complimenting him could throw him off his game so hard and for such a long time?

Clover exited the office slowly, trying to gather together whatever crumbs of his dignity there were left. He vaguely heard Penny, who he’d almost forgotten was there, start saying, “I was wondering if courting behaviors are always a little strange, and if it’s true that people tend to lose part of their rationality…”

She sounded genuinely enthusiastic and Clover slammed the door behind him, praying that Qrow hadn’t heard. Judging by the confused look the older Huntsman sent him before waving goodbye and disappearing down the corridor, he hadn’t.

Oh, Penny, sunshine, losing  _ part _ of his rationality was the least of Clover’s problems. If he didn’t find some way to spend time with Qrow in an informal setting, he might combust out of curiosity and frustration.

...maybe it was time to talk to his team about the movie night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please drop by to my Tumblr [tumblr](https://amber-aglio.tumblr.com/) for work updates and non-writing Fair Game projects! See you soon for the next chapter, aka the movie night!


	3. Movie Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A movie night with the Ace-Ops. Sounds peaceful, doesn't it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to my beta [thedarkpoet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedarkpoet/pseuds/thedarkpoet) for pointing out all the ways to improve this chapter!

Back when he had started working with Clover and, by extension, the Ace-Ops, Qrow had never thought he would end up attending a movie night with them.

For one, they made it perfectly clear they weren’t friends. In Qrow’s mind, movie nights were something for friends, something he couldn't imagine doing with anyone but his former team. Why would anyone willingly suffer such a nuisance otherwise?

Not to mention, Qrow was practically a stranger to them. Even if, by some miracle, the Ace-Ops hosted some friendly event, there was absolutely no reason for Qrow to be involved.

And yet there he was. Staring in Clover Ebi's stupidly perfect face and wondering why this was happening.

"A movie night?" he asked, incredulous. Clover nodded enthusiastically,

"Yes! I know you mostly hang out with your nieces and the other kids, but I figured you might want to spend some time with other adults, you know?"

Qrow swallowed. He did not, in fact, want that. It would end badly, as usual. He wasn't used to being around other people. He wasn't used to being  _ friendly _ with people. Kids, at the very least, were oblivious and forgiving enough that he somehow managed.

But the Ace-Ops...

Clover kept looking at him, waiting for an answer. With that stupid boy-scout grin of his. The smug bastard, he actually wanted Qrow to feel better.

He should have refused to avoid embarrassing himself in front of Jimmy's favorite specialists. That was the right, mature thing to do.

"...Okay," he found himself saying instead. Wait, what? No! That wasn’t what he wanted to...

"Great!" Clover beamed and Qrow couldn’t bring himself to mind  _ too _ much if that's how the man reacted. "I'll see you Friday at seven, then."

"Wait, hold on, what about dinner?" Qrow clung to the last hope to at least postpone the torture.

"Oh, don't worry about it. There will be snacks and tea. Do you want anything specific? I can make something more substantial than popcorn and sandwiches if you're worried." Clover looked him up and down a little too deliberately for polite society, “You probably shouldn’t skip meals.”

Screw this man for being so thoughtful. How dare he? Qrow could take care of his eating habits. He’d survived decades without being worried about. Why would an Atlas operative suddenly decide to remedy that?!

"No, no, it's fine. Totally,” Qrow desperately backpedalled before Clover decided to cook a three-course meal specially for him. “You know me, I don't need much. Just... you know, thought you military types would be worried about your diet more."

Clover winked at him conspiratorially, "I won’t tell Specialist Schnee or the General if you won’t. It's just a bit of harmless fun every once in a while. Let it be our secret, okay?"

Qrow gaped, and Clover, bless him, decided not to torture him further, "Don't be late! I would hate to have to start without you and you know how impatient Harriet can be."

"Okay... uh, yeah, if nothing comes up..." Qrow waved Clover off and retreated to the safety of his own room.

Friday arrived and yet nothing came up, to Qrow's great disappointment and secret relief.

At five minutes to seven he found himself standing in front of the door he knew to be Clover's.

Should he have brought something? Clover didn't mention anything, but... there were supposed to be snacks, right? Maybe he should have grabbed a box of chocolates or something. No, that’s too romantic. Maybe he should have brought his own mug for the tea. Is that something people usually did? They definitely didn't in the tribe, but Qrow had long since realized that  _ normal _ people viewed things very differently.

Meanwhile, he was stuck somewhere between the Branwen normal and the normal normal, like a fool that didn't fit anywhere. 

Qrow also debated if he should have brought the socks he’d accidentally grabbed during their run-in in the laundry room. They were green with leaf patterns and very obviously not military issue, so Qrow suspected they were at least somewhat missed. However, returning another man’s socks seemed to fall under that creepy category between weird and intimate that probably shouldn’t be brought up around other people.

So Qrow was empty-handed and nervous, but punctual. He exhaled and knocked with determination. The door opened immediately, revealing a beaming Clover.

"Welcome! Come in, make yourself comfortable." He stepped away to usher Qrow inside, but whatever relief Qrow felt at the warm welcome evaporated quickly. The other Ace-Ops were standing in the hallway with varying levels of amusement and irritation written on their faces, and Qrow suddenly realized he never actually asked if they were okay with him intruding on their tradition.

"Uhhh... Everything okay there?" he probed as tactfully as he could.

“Clover has spent the last 10 minutes in front of the door waiting for your arrival," Vine helpfully explained, earning an elbow nudge from his captain. Elm giggled and for some reason winked at Qrow.

Clover quickly ushered a still confused Qrow in, "Don't mind them, they should learn to mind their own business."

"Are you sure it's okay for me to be here?" Qrow caught the gaze of Harriet. She looked slightly murderous, but maybe that was her friendly face.

Don't judge him, he grew up with Raven. Sometimes the difference was subtle.

"Yeah! Of course, I asked them, they said it's okay for you to join in. Look, I know they can be... intense, but don't mind them, okay? It's fine, we want you here."

Marrow snickered. If Qrow hadn’t known better he would have said that Clover pouted at that, but that was quite a ridiculous notion.

Wasn't it?

"You guys choose the movie, Qrow and I will make the popcorn!" Clover quickly led Qrow into the kitchen, to the chuckling of his team. Qrow felt desperately like he was missing half the conversation.

They must have some kind of inside joke about him. It was nice of Clover to shut it down, but Qrow was used to being the butt of many jokes. It would be fine either way.

Qrow stood awkwardly as Clover opened the cabinets and took out bowls and plates.

"Uh... can I actually do anything?" he asked.

"Hey, you're the guest!" Clover protested unwrapping the foil from some delicious-smelling cut meat to put on sandwiches. "But if you really want, you can put the first batch of popcorn in the microwave."

Right. Qrow could do that. He took the packet from where Clover pointed. Thankfully, there were instructions, so he wouldn't make a complete fool of himself.

"Are you sure they don't mind? I mean…” Qrow looked around and lowered his voice as he opened the door of the microwave and placed the popcorn inside. "Harriet didn't look... particularly thrilled."

Clover's shoulders sagged imperceptibly. He stalked over to Qrow and looked at him carefully, "Listen... if you actually aren't comfortable being here, you don't have to force yourself. I'll make some excuse, you can leave. I just thought you could use a break, that's all. We spend most of our time running around and fighting, so we started this tradition as a way to unwind. You.. you look like you could use that. And Harriet, well, she's just... very competitive and she knows you could wipe the floor with her?"

Qrow snorted, and the spike of anxiety was replaced by some other fierce feeling Qrow couldn't quite place. Damn thoughtful Clover. Damn his sweet talk and care for Qrow's well-being. This was unfair.

A gust of wind from the open window tore through the kitchen, ruffling Qrow's bangs and making him look away from Clover’s face. The curtains flapped loudly, grounding him.

"That... that does sound nice. I mean, not wiping the floor with Harriet, though that would probably be nice, too, but... uh, being invited here, I guess."

"Don't sweat it." Clover smiled but his gaze was intense. He reached around Qrow to shut the door of the microwave. "We don't get to spend much time around each other outside of missions, do we? And I'd like to get to know you more."

Qrow turned around to turn the microwave on, unsure of how to reply. Clover tended to say the most uncomfortable things with a straight face and such sincerity that Qrow couldn't help but believe them.

"Okay." he said. "Okay, let's assume I believe you, though I don't. You can't deny that I'm not exactly the good type of guest. I’ll just get in the way and ruin everyone's fun."

He'd been told that multiple times, hadn't he? How his cynicism sucked the laughter out of the room - unless he was the one people are laughing at.

"Qrow..." Clover sighed and backed away to do the sandwiches. "Do  _ you _ want to be here or not? Do you want to watch a movie with us? With... with me?” 

Clover didn’t look at Qrow, but his tone was passionate, less suave and more vulnerable than usual. “Because if the answer is yes, then I'm not accepting refusals. It might be hard to believe, but we appreciate having you around."

And just as Qrow was looking for words to answer this raw sincerity of Clover’s, the contents of the microwave burst into flames. Qrow startled and recoiled from it, almost colliding with Clover.

"Uh... I didn't do that?" Qrow tried to defend himself but now that he concentrated on it, he could feel his aura tingling. Damn. He should have known his Semblance would ruin everything

Clover looked equally dumbfounded. "Yeah... yeah, hold on, let me just..."

He grabbed a fire extinguisher from behind one of the cabinets. And seriously, what sort of guy keeps an extinguisher in their kitchen? Fine, Tai kept one, but that was only due to numerous  _ accidents _ . Qrow couldn't imagine Clover having  _ accidents _ . 

However, before Clover could actually do anything about the fire, the microwave exploded.

Qrow ducked instinctively, covering his head, shards of metal pinging off his aura. The night just kept getting better.

"Qrow! Are you okay?" Clover called out worriedly and Qrow couldn't help but laugh.

Seriously. Man. He’d just exploded the guy's kitchen, Clover should have had bigger issues to worry about.

"Whoa, whoa!" Marrow's familiar voice rang from the doorway and Qrow looked up to see the entire Ace-Ops packed there, looking curiously at the disaster of a kitchen.

"Figures," Harriet snorted.

"Looks like we're going without popcorn tonight, guys!" Clover grinned, ever the perfect host. He quickly fished some cookies from the drawer behind him and checked on sandwiches, miraculously untouched.

Elm put a firm hand on Qrow's shoulder.

"Come on, you should go grab a seat. You're the guest of honor, you get to choose first. We'll clean this up."

Qrow wanted to argue, but he could take a hint. If this wasn't a "go and try not to cause any more trouble," then he hadn’t learned anything at his job as a teacher.

Clover sent him an apologetic look and Qrow quickly retreated before he did something even more embarrassing. Five pairs of eyes followed him.

Once in the living room, Qrow dropped on the seat furthest from the door - the far end of the large and comfy couch. He should just sit quietly and try not to get Clover into any more trouble.

Footsteps sounded, and Qrow was about to start apologizing again, but it wasn't Clover. Instead, Marrow dropped right by Qrow's side and offered him a bowl full of cookies. Qrow politely shook his head and Marrow shrugged and hugged the bowl, munching noisily.

"Harriet once ran into General Ironwood at full speed. She was trying to win a bet," the faunus suddenly said, his tail twitching. At Qrow's incredulous look he explained, "You know, in case you needed ammunition. I have been collecting dirt for years. I can spare you some."

Qrow wasn't sure if he was supposed to be grateful or disturbed, but soon after that Vine entered, and right after him Elm and Harriet, all carrying plates with food. Clover was the last, carefully balancing a tray with six mugs. He handed one to Qrow.

"Uh, sorry, I didn't ask what sort you wanted, hope black is okay. Do you need sugar or milk or whatever? I think I've only ever seen you drink coffee..."

"Clover?" Qrow interrupted him and Clover paused. "You're rambling. It's fine, everything is just fine, don't bother on my account."

Someone snickered and Clover quickly turned away to hand out the rest of the mugs. Qrow held his own carefully with both hands and wondered if the rest of the night would be just as awkward.

"So..." after a bit more shuffling around as everyone raced to get the treats they liked, the Ace Ops settled down and Clover put the tray on the coffee table. "What are we watching?"

Harriet rolled her eyes and tapped at her scroll, making a screen appear on the opposite wall. It was showing what must have been the movie's poster, with a silhouette of an embracing couple in front of a ridiculously pink sunset. Qrow vaguely remembered the movie - it was some romantic flick he recalled his nieces mentioning once or twice. Wasn't it based on that one book Blake loved?..

"Oh. Uh, I was expecting something more... action-adventure?" Clover sat down on Marrow's other side, his expression carefully neutral.

"We watch those every time!" Elm explained. "I thought we could all use a change."

"I find certain humor in her choice," Vine said evenly. Qrow couldn’t tell if he was being genuine or sarcastic and decided that any more thinking would earn him a headache.

Clover turned a betrayed gaze on Marrow.

"Don't look at me!" the youngest Ace-Op said around a mouthful of cookies. "I don't get involved in those wars, I'm just in it for the food."

"I was against it," Harriet grumbled, sprawling in the armchair. "But they played dirty."

"Stop right there, I don't think I want to know," conceded Clover. "That okay with you, Qrow?"

Qrow shrugged. "Never seen this one, so can't say. I don't mind."

Clover sighed in defeat and nodded to Harriet to play the movie. The lights dimmed and Qrow found himself slowly drifting away to the sound of the film.

Around half an hour in, he shook himself awake. He felt a gaze on him and turned to see Clover watching him from across Marrow's shoulder. Clover raised an eyebrow questioningly and Qrow realized that he must have noticed his sleepy state. He smiled quickly and shook his head, returning his attention to the screen. A girl was sitting in her very pink bedroom, looking heartbroken. Probably about some guy - it was a romantic comedy, after all.

Qrow stole another look at Clover and unexpectedly met his eyes again. After a moment of mutual gawking they both looked away from each other and Qrow continued staring at the screen, grateful for the dim lights that hid his embarrassment.

Marrow groaned out loud and got up, "Gotta use the bathroom," he explained and squeezed past everyone else to the door. Qrow could have sworn he also muttered something like, "Enough is enough." Clover moved to let him pass more easily and Qrow became very aware of a bare shoulder pressing against his arm.

Clover was suddenly very close.

When Marrow returned, he took the seat previously occupied by Clover without complaint. Once more Clover shifted, pressing closer to Qrow to make room for Marrow. Their knees were brushing together and Qrow was absolutely terrified to move and bring Clover's attention to that fact.

It was torture.

For all of Clover's flirtiness in the field, during the entire evening he hadn't made a single move. He had many chances to flirt or initiate physical contact, but didn't. He could have done that ridiculous cliche thing where he’d put his arm on the backrest of the couch and slip it across Qrow's shoulder - a man like Clover could probably make something like that work - and no, Qrow wasn’t thinking that it would have been nice.

Instead, once the setting was informal, Clover became awkward. So, Qrow got the memo. Flirting was flirting. It was harmless and it also didn’t mean anything. At the end of the day, they were just colleagues and Clover didn’t know how to handle him as anything more.

Qrow would never admit it, but the realization stung.

He barely noticed the movie, too caught up in his head. He was overly aware of the heat of Clover’s body next to him, of the light musky scent giving him a ridiculous urge to turn his head and inhale a full lungful to figure it out. He shouldn't have been paying as much attention to it as he did, but his stupid brain refused to listen.

Once the movie ended, everyone started getting up and collecting the dishes. Qrow realized he was still holding a mug full of now-cold tea. He slipped into the kitchen, half-listening to post-movie chatter. Apparently, Harriet found it ridiculous, Elm hilarious, Marrow insisted it was ridiculous  _ and _ hilarious at the same time, while Vine refused to take sides. Qrow quickly dumped his cold tea into the sink, washed the mug and left it on the counter, unsure where to put it.

"So, how did you like it?" Qrow almost jumped at Clover's voice.

"Huh?" Qrow wiped his wet hands on his pants, trying to remember what the movie had even been about.

"The movie. Did it bore you?" Clover explained with a kind and patient smile, but Qrow could see the way he fiddled with his fingers. "We usually watch something more exciting, I suppose romantic flicks aren't your thing."

"It was... It was fine. Yeah, I don't mind. Don't often get to watch anything at all." Would Clover be disappointed if he knew Qrow hadn’t been watching? Surely not, it was just a stupid movie...

Elm entered with a stack of plates. "Oh, you're both here. Don't you worry, we will be out of your hair soon enough and then you two can discuss the movie all you want!"

Qrow blinked. A panicky feeling crawled up his skin as Elm winked, and he blurted out on instinct, "Uh... actually, I should go. Got an early start tomorrow. Yeah. Bye."

Clover looked stricken, "Early start? But you don't have any missions tomorrow morning, I checked that everyone was free to stay as long as they wanted tonight..."

"Oh. Uh... I promised Oscar I would help them train. Yeah. Gotta wake up early for that." It wasn't technically a lie. Oscar did ask him if team ORNJ could join him for training one day, but they hadn't agreed on a date yet. Tomorrow was as good a day as any. 

"I see..." Clover's expression brightened. "Perhaps I could join in, two? My morning is free and two heads are better than one."

Welp. Qrow did step into this one.

"Uh… I guess?.. I'm sure the kids will be thrilled… "

"Great!" Clover grinned. "Then it's a d… um, deal."

"Right." Qrow backed away to the suite door. "I'm gonna...yeah. Head to bed. Night, everyone."

He closed the door quickly behind him, but not fast enough to miss Harriet's eye roll.

Great. There went his professional relationship with the Ace-Ops. Why did he care? They were annoying, anyway.

As he shot a quick message to Oscar about the training, a voice deep inside his head noted how he wouldn’t have minded quite as much if it had been just him and Clover watching the movie. He squashed the thought - he had long since trained himself not to want things he wasn’t going to get.

For some reason, not wanting Clover was getting ridiculously difficult.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was hoping to have at least some sort of draft for chapter 4 by the time I publish this one, but... The last few days have been stressful for a plethora of reasons, so I honestly can't say when the sparring session will be completed, not to mention published. I will try to finish it in a week, because this story is coming to its culmination and I'm determined to see it through. However, if anxiety keeps flaring up, the chapter might be delayed a bit. Or a lot.  
> Still, feel free to come to my [tumblr](https://amber-aglio.tumblr.com/) to scream at me. Seriously, if you feel like it, screaming is just the thing I need right now.


	4. Training

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The long-awaited training session. Clover is confused, Qrow is doing what he does best: fights and deflects.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm... sorry? When I said this chapter would probably take a while I definitely didn't expect "a while" to be over two months. Sorry? In my defence I can only say that most of that time was spent on exams. This chapter _definitely_ has been troublesome -- I don't think I will ever get properly good at writing combat... Still, I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> As usual, a big thank you to my wonderful beta [thedarkpoet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedarkpoet/pseuds/thedarkpoet) for endless patience and care when dealing with the way I mix up letters in words and combine words that should not go together. And a separate thank you to all the folks from discord who made me include all the obscure ballet stuff.

Clover didn’t sleep well after the movie night. He kept tossing and turning under the sheets, just as his brain kept tossing and turning around the events of the evening, scrutinizing Qrow’s every reaction and in particular, his hasty retreat. So, in the early morning, he arrived at the training rooms and waited anxiously for Qrow and the kids, feeling sleepy and wound-up at the same time. 

When Jaune stumbled into the training room almost an hour later, Clover pretended to have just arrived and waved at him cheerfully. Nora poked her head in next and let out a surprised yawn, “Oh, sorry, we didn’t know you’d be here. We’ll find another room…”

“Oh, no, it’s fine. Qrow invited me to join you and him for training. Where is he, by the way?” Clover craned his neck to see behind Nora, but only found Ren and Oscar there.

Nora shook her head and managed to look slightly more awake, a puzzled expression on her face. “Uh? Qrow? Should he be here?”

“Oh, right, I completely forgot!” Oscar squeezed past her into the room with a slightly nervous smile. “He texted me last night saying he wanted to train with us, I meant to tell you.”

Last night?

A question died on Clover’s tongue as he caught sight of Qrow in the corridor. There were dark circles under the Huntsman’s eyes and his clothing looked slightly rumpled, and Clover just  _ didn’t understand _ .

Last night? So it wasn’t something planned in advance?

Their eyes met and Qrow paused for a moment, missing a step and averting his gaze as he found his balance again. Clover made himself smile, squashing the hurt feelings.

He shouldn’t judge prematurely. There undoubtedly was an explanation. The Ace-Ops could be too much, or maybe the explosion affected him more than Clover had realized, or there could be something completely unrelated.

Clover wished he knew Qrow better so he could make a more educated guess, but as it was, he could only smile and hope whatever it was hadn’t completely ruined his chances. There was no use pondering over things he didn’t know - he would just have to wait until the training was over and ask Qrow.

Easier said than done.

The kids greeted their unofficial guardian enthusiastically, either not noticing or ignoring how tired and distant he looked. Qrow cracked a smile, and if Clover wasn’t so attuned to every detail of the other man’s expression, he too would have probably believed everything was fine.

“You’re all here already,” Qrow grunted. “Let’s get warmed up and get on with it.”

The kids made various noises of assent and dragged themselves to different corners of the room for their warm-up rituals. Clover kept his gaze on Qrow for a moment, which proved to be a colossal mistake, because once Qrow started moving, there was no looking away.

Clover watched as even the first simple movements showed off the fluid work of Qrow’s muscles. The slow smooth leg raises gave way to faster, smaller movements, and then before Clover knew it, the fast taps of Qrow’s feet became his leg flying up above his head, then back down. Then Qrow executed an elegant pirouette to concentrate on his other leg and  _ brothers above Clover needed someone to come and save him. _ He turned away quickly, trying to focus on his own body, but a few minutes later he sneaked another glance for no other reason that apparently Clover Ebi had no self-control. 

Qrow had one foot on one of the cubes, slightly above his waist. He leant towards it, eyes closed in concentration, and then moved his torso in a half-circle until he was nearly bent in half backwards, the arch of his spine making Clover shudder. For a moment he was afraid he would be discovered, but Qrow seemed to be entirely focused on what he was doing. 

Then Qrow straightened up and raised his leg even higher, holding his calf flush to his ear, and there was a weird sound that apparently came out of Clover’s mouth and that had Nora looking at him weirdly. As he snapped his mouth shut, she turned and whispered urgently in Ren’s ear.

Clover really needed to pull himself together.

His brain ran on autopilot for the next long, tempting minutes as he tried not to look in Qrow’s direction. Judging by Nora’s not-so-subtle giggles, he’d already managed to make a fool of himself, but even as he tried to focus on warming up, the only image in his head was that of Qrow, his impossibly long legs stretched in a standing split. 

Qrow’s voice startled him out of the daydreams. 

“Is everyone done? Great, then we can start, how do you guys want to do it?”

Back to business. Clover could do that. Probably.

“How about we assemble two teams and go one match before moving to individual training?” he suggested. Getting everyone involved from the get-go seemed like a good way to break the ice and also to take a closer look at what might require further work for each of the kids. It would also do him good to focus on someone other than Qrow for a change.

“Yeah, whatever. I’ll take those two.” Qrow unceremoniously reached for the two closest kids: Jaune and Oscar. Clover raised an eyebrow.

“Are you sure? Your team seems to be… lacking offense. Just a little.” Jaune shifted away from Qrow’s hold at the same time as Oscar let out a nervous chuckle, raising a hand to his neck in a gesture adorably reminiscent of Qrow himself.

Qrow’s eyes narrowed in challenge, “Oh? You say it as if I couldn’t take the three of you alone, boy scout. Come on, let’s see what you’ve got.”

“Aren’t you going to discuss your strategy?” Clover asked and watched with slight amusement as Qrow startled at the idea.

“Ah. Right, yeah, strategy. Sure.” Qrow scratched at the back of his head and rounded up Oscar and Jaune for the team meeting. Clover looked at Ren and Nora, who in turn stared at him expectantly.

Oh, right. They should discuss strategy, too.

“Okay, listen here. It is obvious that the biggest threat is Qrow, but if we focus on him immediately, it will only give a chance to Jaune and Oscar to find a weak spot in our defence while we’re distracted – and I’ve seen him in action enough to say that we all  _ will _ be distracted.” 

Ren was listening intently and Nora had a competitive glint in her eyes that told Clover she would give it her all. He almost felt bad for the other team.

Almost.

“So we need to take them out first. Don’t let Qrow provoke you into attacking him all together – I’ll hold him off for a while, but don’t expect me to give you much time – he’ll catch onto it quickly, and Harbinger has a good range. Remember: be fast, don’t give them time to regroup. Jaune’s aura recovers quickly, so your best bet is to quickly disarm and immobilize him. They are both more defensive and supportive fighters, a sudden and fast attack is going to throw them off balance - don’t miss that chance.”

Clover finished his speech and turned to see how Qrow was doing, only to find the man leaning against the wall, tapping his foot impatiently. Jaune and Oscar looked at him with slight trepidation and Clover realized there was a good chance Qrow didn’t really know what to do in a team, just as the kids didn’t really know what to do with Qrow. When he fought alongside Clover, it was more of an unspoken mutual understanding than actual planning, but the chances he would be able to work just as effortlessly with the kids were slim.

_ “Still not used to working with other Huntsmen in the field.” _

...maybe this training would be useful for more than just the kids.

The two teams lined up before each other. Clover surveyed the terrain formed by the cubic dust-lined blocks before turning his attention to the opposing team. He noticed Qrow shift subtly to stand a little in front of Oscar as he whipped out Harbinger. Nora and Renalso got their weapons ready, and Clover took it as his cue to unclip Kingfisher from his belt. Qrow’s gaze hardened and he smirked, and it really was unfair how attractive he looked with a giant sword clasped easily in one hand, ready for a fight.

“Well, kids. Show us what you’ve got.” Qrow’s hips shifted subtly and Clover could tell he was recentering himself, getting ready to move at the first sign of an attack.

Before Clover could formulate an appropriately witty response, Nora dashed forward with an enthusiastic battle cry.

Okay, maybe he should have been a little more specific when he said “a sudden and fast attack”, Clover thought as he unfolded Kingfisher on autopilot and cast the line just in time to hook and redirect Harbinger to save Nora from the consequences of her rash attack.

He heard Ren move on his left, twin blades hitting Jaune’s shield. Clover was relatively certain Jaune wouldn’t be able to evade for long - Ren’s speed was exceptional and his dual-wielding gave him an advantage against someone with heavier armor and a less agile fighting style.

Maybe if he and Nora could focus on Qrow… who seemed to be hell-bent on staying close to Oscar… they would give Ren a chance to take Jaune out of the game and limit the other team’s options.

Shooting another glance at Ren, Clover cast Kingfisher once more to deflect Oscar’s surprisingly nimble attack on Nora, then started running towards the three of them, berating himself for underestimating Oscar. The boy was a former farmhand and didn’t go with them on missions, but that was really no excuse on Clover’s part. His mistake became even more evident as Oscar expertly tried to trip him by yanking on his cane and dragging Kingfisher’s line into Clover’s path. Only Clover’s quick reflexes and intimate knowledge of the behavior of Kingfisher’s line allowed him to avoid falling flat on his face and get the hook back.

By the time Clover reached them, Nora had fled up to one of the larger blocks and was barely holding her own against Qrow's broadsword, stepping back with each clash of their weapons. Clover tried to catch Qrow off guard, but only succeeded in deflecting another hit aimed at Nora and forcing Qrow to unfold Harbinger into the scythe. For a few long moments the battle was a flurry of blows, trying to predict Qrow’s movements and find a gap in his defence while not getting in Nora’s way. 

It wasn’t easy. Qrow was fast, almost as fast as Clover, and Clover kept getting distracted by the thought of anyone twirling the massive form of Harbinger with such ease. It wasn't anything to do with Qrow personally, really, just admiration of the mastery needed to handle the unusual weapon.

Oh who was he kidding. As Harbinger passed a breath from Qrow’s own face, his hand sure and steady, the unflinching smirk on his face was unfairly attractive and distracting.

He heard Jaune cry out below them and briefly glanced that way, just in time to see Jaune fall and Ren shoot at Oscar, who ducked behind one of the cubic blocks. A moment later he cried out and was almost dragged out of cover as Ren shot his grappling hooks after him.

Once this initial panic passed, Oscar did the same thing he tried to do when Clover hooked him. The sharp tug of the entangled cane sent Ren sprawling, his reflexes a fraction too slow, but Oscar needed a moment to find his balance again, providing Clover with a perfect opportunity to pin the boy’s arms to his body with Kingfisher’s line. 

Harbinger’s blade whooshed, and Clover mourned the loss of several hairs severed from his quiff as he barely dodged the blow. Nora wasn’t so lucky, and the hard hit of Harbinger’s handle sent her flying over the edge of the block and out of Clover’s line of sight. Had Qrow decided to make another attack, Clover wasn’t sure he would have managed to get out unscathed, but to his relief, the older Huntsman rushed to free Oscar and pull him further up.

Clover called Kingfisher’s hook back and hastily righted himself, ducking forcover as Qrow switched Harbinger once more to use the weapon’s shotgun form. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Ren staggering up and Jaune being forced closer to his teammates as Nora found a new target in him. 

“Give me your hand!” Qrow suddenly demanded, leaving Clover momentarily confused until he heard a reply.

“What?” Jaune had reached the block Qrow and Oscar chose as their stronghold. He barely blocked another hit from Nora and turned towards Qrow. “Why, are you injured?”

Qrow grunted something that Clover couldn’t hear and grabbed Jaune’s hand, hoisting him up effortlessly. Harbinger spun, deflecting another strike as Qrow growled, “Just do your thing!”

His… thing?

Realization dawned barely a moment before Jaune’s face scrunched up in concentration and Qrow’s eyes flared red.

Oh. Oh no.

Clover’s foot slipped and he barely managed to right himself by hooking Kingfisher on a nearby block that crumbled, barely giving him enough time to find his balance.

The air was thick with an energy Clover was all-too familiar with. It was different, foreign and yet tauntingly identical to what he felt when focusing his own Semblance. Still, if when he used his pin to channel luck it was a small and concentrated stream, this… this was a storm, unpredictable and overwhelming.

Clover felt slightly nauseous.

There was no finesse to what reigned over the room at that moment. The screen displaying aura levels flickered and died, and Clover dreaded what could have happened in a less predictable environment of a real fight.

He cast Kingfisher, flicking his pin to try and combat the overwhelming bad luck. But with Qrow’s Semblance amplified as it was, his attempt was useless, and Clover watched with dread how Kingfisher’s line hooked around Nora’s waist, stopping her mid-strike and effectively ruining both attacks.

Qrow smirked. His movements were limited with Jaune stuck to his side, but he still managed to block Ren’s shots effortlessly and poised to strike Nora as she fell just to his left, the air knocked out of her. Clover yanked Kingfisher, dropping Nora hard onto the floor below, but saving her from Harbinger.

This wasn’t going well. 

Whatever advantage they had evaporated in the face of Qrow’s Semblance. 

The empty click of a misfire drew Clover’s gaze and he watched helplessly as Ren’s eyes widened moments before Qrow took the opportunity to shoot him. They were atlesian-grade pistols, Clover thought desperately, they weren’t supposed to get jammed, but all rules were swiftly flying out of the window. He himself wasted a few too-long moments undoing the knot that somehow made its way to Kingfisher’s line. 

However, the moment Clover contemplated if it was too early to admit defeat, the block crumbled under Jaune and Qrow, making them both lose their footing and let go of each other. Qrow’s reflexes were quick enough that he managed to plunge Harbinger into another block and then promptly jumped over to the nearest stable ground, but Jaune fell right at Nora’s feet.

Clover winced in sympathy as she swung her hammer down vindictively, but he had more pressing problems at that moment as Qrow straightened up and saw Jaune wheezing on the floor. Clover swung Kingfisher again, relishing in the familiar predictability of the line’s movements, and pulled himself up to face Qrow and Oscar. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Nora moving around them and prayed she would have enough stealth to succeed at a sneak attack.

Clover realized that he’d never really fought against Qrow. They never happened to be in the training rooms at the same time, both busy with other responsibilities and confident in their skills. There was a cockier, more arrogant part of him that wanted to believe his Semblance would give him an edge over Qrow, but the longer the fight went on, the more he saw that it wouldn’t be their Semblances that would decide the outcome of the fight.

It’s been a long time since Clover had to push himself so much in a fight, use all his speed and agility to evade attacks. Several times he let himself get distracted enough that Oscar landed a few hits, and if it didn’t hurt so much, he would have enjoyed the proud smile this brought to Qrow’s face.

He did his best to keep his face straight when Nora jumped out, ready to strike down Qrow. Still, he saw Qrow pause momentarily and then abruptly turn and duck under Nora’s swing, simultaneously hitting her with the blunt side of the broadsword. Clover’s heart sank as he watched Nora fall, her aura barely holding up, but while Qrow’s back was turned to him, Clover took advantage of the situation. 

He swung Kingfisher, pulling Oscar’s legs from under him, and kicked away his cane. Qrow rushed to help him, but Oscar slipped over the edge of the platform and hit the floor, groaning weakly. “I think I’m out....” he wheezed, raising a hand gingerly to his shoulder. Clover looked at Qrow and swallowed.

“Looks like it’s just you and me left,” he said, trying to sound cheerful.

Qrow swung Harbinger onto his shoulder as if it weighed nothing. An ominous smirk slowly made its way onto his face and he carded his fingers through his bangs, pushing them back. “Show me what you’ve got then, pretty boy.”

Clover could feel a part of him die. Sparring with Qrow was turning out to be hazardous for his health in more ways than one.

On the plus side, it looked like Qrow wasn’t angry at him anymore.

Clover barely had the time to ready Kingfisher before Qrow was on him in a flurry of blows, swinging and slashing with a ferocity that was only softened by the playful glint in his eyes. It would have been fascinating to watch if Clover wasn’t so busy dodging the deadly blade.

He sprang away, trying to regain his footing, and watched Qrow unfold Harbinger into full scythe. They circled around each other for a few moments, watching for the smallest tells of movements. Qrow smirked and effortlessly spun Harbinger in his hand, making a warm inappropriate feeling bloom in Clover’s chest.

Before he could examine the feeling more closely, or fully realize how out-of-place it was in a training room, Clover attacked, casting the fishing line to divert Harbinger’s path and create an opening for his fist. He rushed at Qrow, trying to make the most of the moment, and even managed to land a hit before a firm kick in the stomach made him stumble and fall back.

He still couldn’t wrap his mind around how Qrow managed to not only wield Harbinger with such speed and precision, but also remain agile and perfectly balanced. The long years of training and fighting made Clover aware of the shift that usually preceded a person’s movement, the unevenness of hips that indicated the transferral of weight from one leg to another, but Qrow gave nothing away, his hips perfectly level at all times, ready to move or to strike.

It was as amazing as it was maddening. All the usual calculations went out of the window, leaving only pure instinct and adrenaline. Clover was fast, and he managed to evade the scythe as Qrow spun it around himself, but it was a close call. 

The fact that the way Qrow handled Harbinger was fascinating had absolutely nothing to do with it.

_ “Maybe we should leave them to it.” _

Harbinger and Kingfisher clashed, and Clover put all his strength into trying to push back, only to find he couldn’t make Qrow budge. Gritting his teeth, Clover raised his eyes to meet sparkling crimson.

“Having fun?” Qrow teased.

Clover was, but probably not in the way Qrow meant it. Because as good as the workout was, the flush on Qrow’s cheeks, his teasing smirk, the occasional mutual showing off was what Clover really craved.

This was Qrow in his element, this was Qrow doing what he did best, and Clover couldn’t get enough of it.

“Are you?” he tossed back, using the pause to catch his breath.

_ “You know what, my aura is kind of in tatters after all that, maybe we should call it a day.” _

Qrow suddenly let up the pressure, and only perfect reflexes and a bit of good luck prevented Clover from losing his footing. He barely blocked yet another kick that gave him a nice view of Qrow’s legs and had to make a conscious effort to look up at his opponent’s face. Qrow cocked his head to one side, watching him with amusement.

“Oh, immensely. You’re actually not too bad at this.”

_ “I’m suddenly really hungry!” “You’re always hungry…” _

Clover flicked his pin, trying to focus both his Semblance and his mind. If this went on any longer, he might have a serious problem at hand. Taking advantage of his speed, Clover charged at Qrow, catching Harbinger with Kingfisher’s hook just as it spun towards his feet.

By good or bad luck, they both stumbled as their weapons met, Kingfisher’s line tangling around Harbinger. The scythe and the fishing pole clattered to the ground as both Huntsmen tried to regain their balance by grabbing at each other. Just as Qrow seemed to have found purchase on one of the cubic blocks, it crumbled under his hand, sending them both sprawling onto the ground.

Clover suddenly found himself on the ground on top of Qrow, pressed close together by gravity and chance. Clover could see his breath make Qrow’s hair move away from his face, and suddenly felt they were too close and too far at the same time.

Qrow stared at him with wide surprised eyes, mouth slightly agape, a hint of tongue wetting his lips a few times in the moments they spent focused on each other. Every little detail suddenly seemed overwhelming and indecent.

Then Qrow’s face lit up and before Clover could react, their positions were reversed. He felt breathless, not so much from hitting the floor as from Qrow smirking from where he was sitting astride Clover.

“Alright, fine, you win.” Clover laughed to cover up his nerves, but it looked like Qrow could see right through him, because he leaned closer, too close, so close that Clover could see how the red of his eyes was slightly uneven, the color growing a shade darker on the edges of his irises. Clover suddenly forgot what it was that he had been planning to say next, holding his breath as if afraid Qrow would disappear at a single wrong move.

“Did you ever doubt I would?” Qrow’s voice hid a warmth under mockery, and Clover  _ ached, _ staring squarely in those garnet eyes, feeling Qrow’s heavy breath in the tickling on his face and with each touch of their chests.

Was it too much to ask to have this - but differently, and more, and  _ closer? _

Without realizing, Clover leaned up, not knowing fully what he was seeking, and Qrow put a hand on his chest to push him back down. They froze like that for long moments, conflict dancing all over Qrow’s expressive face as he looked around at the wreckage that was currently the training room.

“Yeah… I won…” Qrow murmured, and Clover could see him shutting down, putting the walls up. The broken screen on the wall sparked and blinked before dying again. “Still managed to make a mess of things. That’s why I’m not a team player.”

Clover swallowed, trying to catch his partner’s eye.

“I –” he started uncertainly, “– I could show you how I control my semblance, if you’d like. How to direct it, so it only affects the events you need it to.”

Qrow dropped his head, his unruly hair touching Clover’s sweaty forehead.

“I don’t think that would be a good idea,” he said quietly.

“Why not?” Clover felt the urge to sit up, or at least to turn Qrow’s head to look him in the eye. However, as close as they were pressed to each other, an intimate gesture like that felt like overstepping.

“How much am I going to hurt you before I get it right?” Suddenly, the weight on top of Clover was gone. Qrow stood up and picked up Harbinger, resolutely not looking at anything else.

“Less than you think you are,” Clover pushed himself to sit up as he watched Qrow head for the door. “And definitely less than I’d be willing to go through to help you with it.”

Qrow paused for a moment, his hand clutching the hilt of his weapons like it was the last thing connecting him to reality.

“You shouldn’t,” he dropped, pained.

The last thing Clover saw was Qrow’s cape disappearing in the doorway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come visit my [tumblr](https://amber-aglio.tumblr.com/) \-- sometimes I post wips and updates there.
> 
> I'm sorry to say that I haven't even started the next chapter yet, so I absolutely cannot say when it will be out. I'll give you a hint though: there will be the Happy Huntresses in it!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Please visit my [tumblr](https://amber-aglio.tumblr.com/) for work updates, calligraphy and a bunch of Fair Game reblogs! I'm going to be posting on all days of FGW, so keep an eye on that. Any comments are, like always, appreciated.


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